


Never Drink Ale While The Elf Drinks Wine

by imadra_blue



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair on Bottom, Anal Sex, Canon - Video Game, Giveaway prize fic, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vignette, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/imadra_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and Zevran, ten years later, in the Herald's Rest tavern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Drink Ale While The Elf Drinks Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [downboy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=downboy).



> Third prize from [my tumblr giveaway](http://imadra-blue.tumblr.com/post/120850550209/imadra-blue-follower-giveaway-okay-so-while). Request from Downboy: "Alistair/Zevran, Alistair's first time bottoming (if you wanted do smut?)."
> 
> I tried a slightly experimental style I'm calling a "domino" style, where I tried to distill and zero in on key moments separated and then connected by placement rather than narrative bridges, meant to resemble individual dominoes being knocked into each other. Please feel free to let me know if it works. (No doubt this is a thing that others have done and have other terms for, but I'm not certain.)

...

"Oh, my, now there's a man I didn't expect to ever see again," Zevran purred into Alistair's ear, suddenly appearing from behind, draping his arms over Alistair's shoulders.

Alistair jerked around so fast he wound up spilling half his ale all over him, which was a real shame. "Zevran?"

Zevran grinned, crinkling his familiar black tattoos. It was indeed him, all in black with stylish armored ridges. Some sort of bird-like skull and hood had been pulled low, revealing his still golden hair and smug face. "Now, what are you doing in Skyhold, I wonder? I thought all the Wardens disappeared, including you?"

Still wiping ale off his tunic, Alistair took a gulp of what ale remained in his tankard. "Thought the Crows had slit your throat and left you in some gutter to rot?"

"Fair enough," Zevran said, and sat next to him.

…

"Remember all the good times we had during the Blight, my friend?" Zevran asked after his third glass of wine.

Alistair was glad he stuck to ale. It didn't go to his head so fast. However, he had been drinking enough that it was starting not to matter. "Which times? The times we were chasing after darkspawn? Or the times they were chasing us?"

"I was more recalling all the fantastic sex we had."

"We never had sex."

"Truly?" Zevran wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and started sipping on his fourth glass of wine. "Not even once?"

"Nope."

"But I distinctly recall having sex with a large, sweaty human with excess chest hair who swore a lot and kept calling the Maker's name when reaching orgasm?"

There was a time when that would have made Alistair and stammer and blush, but he had reached the point where he only sourly retorted with, "You're thinking of the other Warden. Remember him? Tall, dark-haired, goes by the name 'Cousland', killed the Archdemon? What, were you his pit stop between Leliana and Morrigan? That guy is incredible."

"Are you quite certain? I could've sworn it was you."

"Definitely not me. I don't have any chest hair, actually."

"You don't? Let me see."

"I'm not going to show you my chest hair!" Alistair protested.

"I thought you just said you didn't have any? Come now, it was you that I slept with, wasn't it?"

Alistair realized he had entered dangerous territory. He could barely keep up with Zevran's wit while sober, and he was on his fifth tankard.

…

Two more tankards later, and Alistair was upstairs in his rented room, pulling his Grey Warden tunic over his head to reveal his bare chest. "See, no hair," he said, gesturing.

"Very unusual." Zevran ran a finger down the contours of Alistair's pectoral, and Alistair didn't stop him—because of the ale, or because it felt pretty damn good, he couldn't say.

"Thanks, I guess," Alistair said and tried to slip his tunic back on, but Zevran was in the way, standing far too close.

Zevran tapped Alistair's bared chest right over his sternum. "You know that a lack of chest hair on a human man is a sign of being elf-blooded, no? Especially if that man is Fereldan. I'm fairly certain a few branches in your human family tree must include bears. Only elf blood could prevent you from sprouting the fur of your counterparts."

"What? Elf-blooded? Me?" Alistair laughed. "That's ridiculous. I mean, look at me. And both my parents were human."

"Were they now? But if you insist."

Alistair moved to put his tunic back on, then paused, cloth wrapped around his remarkably hairless arms. Everyone he knew had always commented how strange that was for a Fereldan. "Wait, are you being serious?"

…

"I'm still not sure what this has to do with me being elf-blooded," Alistair moaned into Zevran's mouth.

Zevran shifted against him, hands sliding over Alistair's chest, his lips still soft and wet against Alistair's mouth. "Absolutely nothing, my friend." He pulled back to lick Alistair's lips. His thumbs brushed over Alistair's nipples, and Alistair shivered at the warmth spread from Zevran's touch. "Why? Do you not like it?" Zevran asked, his lips full and inviting.

"Didn't say that," Alistair said, darting back in for another kiss.

…

"Maker's Breath," Alistair swore, arching his back, unable to restrain himself as Zevran sucked his cock.

Zevran pulled off of Alistair's cock, looking annoyed. "My friend, you have to stop bucking around. This is precision work, and you're making this very difficult. You keep this up, and you're going to get teeth, and nobody wants that."

"Don't care." Alistair wiped his mouth and stared down at Zevran, his pretty blond hair in disarray, lips wet from Alistair's precum. "Want your mouth on me again."

That brought a smirk to Zevran's face. "Then be a good boy for me, Alistair, and you'll have as much as you want." He slid his hands over Alistair's hips, perhaps in an attempt to help restrain him, and went back to work.

Luckily, it felt so good that Alistair didn't care about all the pathetic noises escaping his mouth.

…

Alistair hadn't pictured it this way, but he didn't really want it any other way. Zevran knew exactly what he was doing and Alistair did not. He gripped the headboard as Zevran slid his cock inside of him, sweat-slick skin pressing against sweat-slick skin. The oil Zevran had used to prepare him dripped down his thigh.

"Maker's Breath," Alistair swore again, making small keening noises as Zevran rolled his hips, the movement and pressure of his cock creating a burning sensation. It felt incredibly odd, but the sensation was intriguing nonetheless.

"Breathe like normal, Alistair," Zevran whispered, his voice strained, and rocked his hips again, in and out.

Alistair tried breathing, but it was hard to do something even so mundane with another man's cock buried inside of him. Then Zevran found a sweet spot inside of him, and breathing was the least of Alistair's concerns. He had no concerns. The only thing he had was Zevran's cock ramming into him, over and over, and that was all he needed. The noises he made were indecent, they were loud, and he didn't care. He could hear Zevran groaning in his ear, feel Zevran's hand wrapped his dick, and taste the pillow he buried his face into just to try and muffle some of his moans. He gripped the headboard and rode it out until he came, white-hot pleasure bursting like magic spells from his groin and ricocheting out until he was spent.

Zevran came a moment later, warm seed filling Alistair, hips driving hard into Alistair, uttering Antivan that Alistair couldn't understand. He leaned over Alistair, panting, his long hair tickling Alistair's face.

"That was fun," Alistair whispered, sliding his fingers through that pretty hair.

…

Alistair woke up warm with an elf tucked against him, head nestled in the crook of his neck. Despite a dull ache in his head from too much ale and a well-earned sore ass, he felt rather satisfied with his current situation.

"Mm," Zevran purred, stretching a bit and tilting his head to kiss Alistair's neck. "Quite the pleasant reunion, yes?"

Alistair chuckled. "Rather. But finally convinced the Warden you slept with during the Blight wasn't me?"

"Oh, my sweet Alistair, I didn't sleep with any Wardens during the Blight. I had to wait a decade for the one I wanted."

After taking a moment to recover from the implications, Alistair grinned.

_End._


End file.
